


The Time Is All We've Lost

by Dorksidefiker



Series: The Time Is All We've Lost [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Prime, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: AU around the end of Season 2, Awkward reunions, Dysfunctional Family, Families of Choice, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 02:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11819499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorksidefiker/pseuds/Dorksidefiker
Summary: The original Primes have never been ones to put all their eggs in one basket, or all their hopes on the shoulders of one mech.  Optimus Prime finds this out the hard way when someone lobs a couple cans of paint at his head during what should have been a routine capture.Old allies are reunited, promises are made, bonds are reforged, and there are many disagreements about how best to protect the Earth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, just a couple notes.
> 
> First off, going AU as of the last couple minutes of Decepticon Island. Optimus, Ratchet, and Windblade are still on Earth.
> 
> Secondly, in any series where I can count the recurring female characters on my thumbs, I reserve the right to add as many women to the cast as I wish, in any way I see fit.
> 
> Thirdly, Insecticons are like the polar opposite of minicons, and that amuses me.
> 
> Fourthly, if anyone feels like beta-ing for me, feel free to drop me a line. I need all the help I can get.

Somehow, Optimus knew that the night was going to end with Ratchet delivering a lecture on why one should  _not_  run off to deal with things by oneself.

 

The most irritating part was that he knew that he deserved it.  He'd delivered the same lecture more than once during his long tenure as Prime, stressing the importance of always having someone there to watch your back when going in to a potentially hazardous situation.

 

But.... it hadn't seemed necessary at the time.  The rest of Bumblebee's team was occupied in the field, cleaning up the Decepticon stragglers, and Ratchet was busy cobbling together what he called _proper medical facilities_  in the scrapyard when Fixit had received the alert about an Insecticon spotted in the north-western part of the country.  Likely another escapee from the  _Alchemor,_ a single Insecticon would be no threat to Optimus Prime.

 

He'd forgotten -- or perhaps just ignored -- the one thing that made Insecticons truly dangerous.

 

_They rarely traveled alone._

 

 

 

He'd found the Insecticon easily enough; it hadn't bothered to conceal itself beyond flying through the low hanging clouds that shrouded the mountain pass.  No kind of cover at all from the eyes of the Prime.

 

Optimus kept to the air, waiting to be sure there would be few humans on the two lane highway below.  It didn't take long; it was late in the planet's solar cycle, and there was little out there beyond the natural beauty of the mountains to draw any humans out.  The headlights below were few and widely spaced apart when Optimus made his move.  He cut his thrusters and allowed gravity to do the rest, falling on top of the Insecticon and using his considerable weight to drag it out of the air, angling for the ravine that dropped off beside the highway.

 

The Insecticon took the worst of the impact, its attempt at rolling away from Optimus sending it crashing into the side of the ravine before it splashed down into the creek below.  The Prime landed more gracefully, dropping in to a crouch as his peds touched the rocky soil.  Something wet and viscous had splattered where the Insecticon had impacted, mixing with a thin trail of energon, and the crunching Optimus heard was not entirely the creature's battered body.

 

The Insecticon was quickly on its peds, shrieking an energon-chilling war cry as it slammed in to Optimus.  Not enough to knock him down, but there was enough force to push the Prime backwards.

 

Optimus grabbed the Insecticon by its shoulder plating and spun, flinging the beast back into the mountain side.

 

During the war, he would have dispatched the Insecticon without a second thought.

 

But the war was over.  And the prisoners of the  _Alchemor_ would be returned to their confinement.

 

Optimus had his stasis cuffs out when the first projectile came raining down.  Had his attention not been fully occupied with his prisoner, he would have batted the little can aside before it hit him.  As it was, it struck the crest of his helm and broke open, spattering paint right into his optics.

 

Truthfully, Optimus was more surprised than injured, even with his optics temporarily offlined as he tried to clear the paint.

 

_Thwunk_

 

**_Thwunk!_ **

 

The second can glanced off Optimus's shoulder, and the third broke open on the servos he used to shield his optics.

 

"Bob, _**run**_!"

 

Despite the battering the Insecticon had already taken, it remained flight capable.  Shrieking its fury as it fled, the screech _almost_ covered the sounds of its partner -- no Insecticon, not with that clear voice -- transforming and speeding away before Optimus could clear his optics.

 

Ratchet would never let him hear the end of this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Optimus doesn't want to make assumptions (but assumptions are made anyway), and Sideswipe has a lot of issues with Knock Out.

"The _Alchemor_ prisoner manifest shows several Insecticons among the inmates," Fixit said, "but all are currency-certainly-" _thwunk_ " **currently** accounted for."

"Could be a straggler from the war," Bumblebee suggested. "We've run into a few of those, but it's mostly been miners who got left behind."

"According to Knock Out, most of the Insecticons disappeared with Airachnid after an incident involving..." Ratchet paused, the look on his face making it clear just how absurd he found what he was saying, "...'zombie-vampire abominations in the eyes of Primus.' His words, not mine."

From where he had perched himself, Sideswipe shuddered. "Creepy."

"And likely exaggerated. Know Out has always been prone to dramatics." Ratchet passed the paint soaked rags he'd been using to clean Optimus's servos off to Undertone and began flexing each digit to be sure that there was nothing left to gum up his gears.

The solvent Ratchet has used to flush the paint from his optics had left Optimus's vision slightly blurred, but he still did not miss the way Sideswipe's lip plate twisted bitterly with each mention of Knock Out. A strangely extreme reaction, he thought, for a bot who hadn't even been on-line during the war.

"In any case," Optimus said firmly, "There _is_ an Insecticon loose on this planet, partnered with-" He paused, reluctant to label the Insecticon's ally a Decepticon with so little actual information available. He hadn't been close enough to read the bot's EM field, nor had he actually laid eyes on her. The voice he had heard had been young and terribly afraid, and while many a Decepticon _had_ fled the field of battle rather than face the Prime, the encounter last night had not felt like that.

It felt more like.... when Sideswipe had accidentally tipped a bathtub full of rain water over Optimus's head and promptly bolted rather than face him.

"-with a Cybertronian where neither one should be."

Optimus didn't miss the look Ratchet gave him, either. A slight quirk of both brow and lip plate before he dropped Optimus's servo, declaring him clear of paint.

"Whoever they are, we need to find them, and fast." Bumblebee said, a hint of command in his voice. "We can't just leave them running around."

"Not with all the shriekin' an' the fightin' the bugs do." Grimlock was clearly delighted at the prospect. "When do we leave?"

"After Strongarm and Windblade report in." Bumblebee patted Grimlock's flank fondly. "Don't worry, you'll get your chance."

* * *

 

Paint cans and skidmarks.

Whoever had thrown the paint at Optimus Prime had left in such a hurry that they'd abandoned a pile of paint cans on the shoulder of the road. Strongarm scanned the labels until she was satisfied that they had all come from the same manufacturer. It was safe to guess that the paint splattered where the Insecticon had impacted was the same brand, and that it had all been stolen from the same place.

What an Insecticon or a Decepticon would want _masonry_ paint for was a puzzle, but she could always extract a confession once they caught the Prime's assailants.

::Hey, Windblade, those upgraded senses of yours spot anything?::

::As a matter of fact, yes. I found where the Insecticon touched down. There's spilled energon here, some broken plating, and... ah. Paint transfer on the trees, leading back to the highway. Our Decepticon's gonna be hard to miss. It's all glitter and gold.::

::Thoughts?::

Strongarm could just picture Windblade, hands on her hips as she studied the scene. ::They stopped here for repairs, then they both went airborn. Probably didn't go far. The bug was still leaking.::

::Plenty of places to hole up around here,:: Strongarm noted.

::Yeah, but patched up or not, our friends left us enough of an energon trail for me to follow. Call in the reinforcements, we've got a bug to hunt.::

* * *

 

Sideswipe had a routine that he went through after every recharge. It hadn't even changed that much since he'd come to Earth; it just took a little longer thanks to all the dirt.

Put on some tunes, polish himself until he looked showroom fresh, get his energon, and probe the walled off part of his spark to make sure nothing had changed.

He'd heard Denny describe what it was like to have a molar pulled once, and he'd decided that it described what he felt every time he poked the wall _perfectly_.

A dull, distant pain that only got worse when you thought about it, and was always just kinda _there_ no matter what you were doing, and you couldn't _not_ poke it, just to make sure it still hurt.

Denny had said that the feeling faded eventually, and all you were left with was a painless little empty spot. Sideswipe _really_ hoped he was right about that.

Because he wasn't sorry. At all. Staying in Kaon had been the best decision _ever_ , cause now he was hunting down bad guys and kicking aft and he didn't miss _anything_ or _anyone_ on Cybertron. The ache in his spark was just because he wasn't used to it yet, that was all.

And he never had to see those stupid ads for Doc Knock's stupid _full body wellness_ clinic (whatever in the Pit _that_ was supposed to mean) in Iacon, or hear about how great it was, or have anyone bring up the fantastic job they'd one on their paint when they'd been there-

Slag Knock Out. It was all _his_ fault, anyway.

"Windblade's got the trail!" Bumblebee announced, shaking Sideswipe out of his thoughts. "Let's rev up and roll out!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are old familiar faces, Sunstreaker, and terrible corporate slogans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Tsaiko for the gloriously soul sucking slogan.

"Hey, Doc?  Remember how you told me that if I ever saw a weird looking convoy heading our way, I should come get you immediately, no matter what you're doing?"

 

Rafael turned off the shower, groping blindly for a towel.  The wretched terrycloth slithered just out of reach, sliding to the floor rather than staying on the hook where he'd left it in the first place.  He wasn't exactly awake _yet_ , but between the cold water, the sting of shampoo in his eyes, and Sasha's tone, he was getting there.  Already the dream of fire that had plagued him was receding before the realities of his everyday life.  "Yeah?"

 

"Well, one of them's a dinosaur.  And Sunny's having a panic attack or something.  Coffee's on the dresser, clothes are on the bed."

 

Rafael grunted a thank you, scooping his towel off the floor and scrubbing vigorously, trying to work some life into his sleep heavy limbs.

 

"And I called the boss.  Said she'll be here in forty."

 

 _Crap_.

 

"Who's side are you _on,_ Sasha?  Find something shiny to distract her with, I'm on my way down."

 

Rafael abandoned his attempts to dry off, stumbling out of his bathroom and glad to note that Sasha had already retreated rather than face his fury.  Everyone _else_ understood that they were to talk to him first, _then_ call Dagmar _if_ Rafael thought it was absolutely necessary.  But Sasha remained stubbornly, shockingly loyal to his employer, in spite of her near total lack of technical understanding and her peculiarity when it came to trying to manage the team.

 

Jeans and a t-shirt clung uncomfortably to Rafael's skin as he wrestled them on, mind focused more on the problems ahead than what he was actually doing.  He didn't even notice that the shirt was one of the ones with the god-awful slogan Dagmar had inflicted on the team.  Somehow, despite _all_ their efforts, the cupboards held mugs emblazoned with the slogan, and clothes proudly proclaiming _**Inspiration Leads To Innovation**_ kept appearing in their wardrobes.

 

Rafael always sent them to Miko when he found them.  She always sent back videos of her using the Apex Armor to destroy them.

 

Still, Rafael didn't push back against the slogan too hard.  Whatever else Dagmar might have been, she was generous with her funding, even going so far as to set the team up in what had once been the mountain hideaway of a grandfather who had been absolutely certain that the apocalypse was coming in his lifetime.  The old man might have been paranoid to the point of delusion (not that Rafael was at all certain he'd been wrong), but money and sheer force of will had helped him dig a warren in the side of a mountain big enough to house a group twice their number, including rooms big enough to hold a couple of full sized airplanes.

 

Or a few twenty foot tall robots.

 

It wasn't a missile silo or an old army base... it was better.

 

Rafael hit the upper platform of the main laboratory just in time to see Knock Out bring his hand around for a slap that had even Rafael's ears ringing.  He winced in sympathy... then in actual pain.  On the medical berth, a badly battered Bob twisted and shrieked his disapproval at Knock Out's treatment of his mistress.

 

" _Hush_ , Bob," Sunstreaker commanded, her tone surprisingly level as she probed the thin scratches Knock Out had left on her cheek.  "It's alright."

 

Normally, the slightest scuff would have sent Sunstreaker off on an angry rant.  Normally, Sunstreaker would have already pulled the branches that clung to her chassis off and burned them, complaining all the while about how uncivilized the Earth was.  Normally, Sunstreaker would never had let herself be _seen_ looking as scruffy as she did.

 

Today was not normal.

 

"What's the situation?"  Rafael asked, acutely aware of the way his socks were squishing in his shoes and the way the water in his hair was dripping down his back.

 

Over at the security station, Monica gestured silently to a screen showing the approach to their base.  Sasha had been true to his word; a truly unusual convoy was making its way down the gravel road.  A Peterbilt truck, two sports cars, an SUV, and... yes, that was a distinctly tyrannosaurus shaped machine in the rear.

 

"They've got air support too.  Weird looking jet."  Monica paused dramatically, waggling her eyebrows.  "Alien."

 

"I'm glad someone's enjoying herself," Knock Out muttered.  "The _situation_ is that my idiot apprentice-"

 

"Partner!"

 

" _Apprentice_ and her pet got themselves spotted and got in a bit of a tussle."

 

Rafael recalled, vaguely, someone waking him in the middle of the night to tell him that Bob had gotten hurt.  But Bob got hurt all the time; it was a hazard of eighty percent of your impulse control being housed in a Lamborghini.

 

 _This_ looked more like someone had beaten Bob into the side of a mountain.

 

Rafael looked back to the monitors again, his heart giving a painful squeeze.  There were changes to the ones he knew, but those were entirely cosmetic.  He didn't know everyone who was coming by name, even though he'd been scrubbing their images from the internet for months, but he still knew who was about to come rolling back into his life again.

 

"Ratchet told me Optimus died," Rafael said quietly.

 

Knock Out made a soft noise of agreement.  "He did.  You know, the suspense is killing me.  Shall we get some answers?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

What they found was not what Optimus had been expecting.

 

At the end of the winding gravel road was a pair of steel doors, taller even than himself, set into the mountain side.

 

Windblade came down, transforming gracefully as she landed.  "Trail ends here."

 

"Want me to knock?" Grimlock asked, eagerly pushing his way past Strongarm and Sideswipe.

 

Bumblebee held up a restraining hand.  "Could be booby trapped.  Windblade-?"

 

::We're being watched,:: Strongarm commed the rest of the team.  They were all acutely aware of how exposed they were.  The approach was no doubt observed from multiple angels, and whoever was inside certainly knew that they were there.

 

::Walls are too thick,:: Windblade announced.  ::I get a sense of something behind the door, but I'm not getting a clear picture.::

 

::Orders, Lieutenant?::  Strongarm looked to Bumblebee expectantly, and Optimus tamped down on the order he had been about to give.

 

Bumblebee rolled his shoulders, giving the doors a thoughtful once-over.  "We knock."  He wrapped his knuckles on the steel door three times and stepped back, drawing his Decepticon Hunter.

 

To everyone's surprise, the doors opened just enough to allow a red optic to peer out at them.

 

"We don't want any," Knock Out announced, slamming the door shut.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out wants to have some fun with this.

Sideswipe let out an inarticulate snarl and shouldered Bumblebee aside, pounding on the doors with both fists.  “ _You_!  You lousy slagging pit-spawned glitch!  Get back out here!”

 

It took both Strongarm and Windblade to manhandle him away from the door.  Everyone else, he realized, was gaping at him.

 

Any other day, Sideswipe would have enjoyed being able to make the high and mighty Optimus Prime gape.  It was almost as funny as the Prime turning up at the scrap yard with a helm covered in pink paint.

 

“ _Easy_ there, Slick, don’t blow a gasket.”  Windblade eased her grip, allowing Sideswipe to shake her off.  Strongarm kept ahold of him, stopping Sideswipe from trying to bash the door down or slice it open.

 

“Not an… unreasonable reaction to Knock Out,” Bee said slowly, optics wide.  “But so not helpful right now, so reel it in.”

 

Optimus put himself between Sideswipe and the doors, turning to watch as they swung open again.  And there he was, the slagger, with the smarmiest of smirks.  “Why Sideswipe!  What a surprise.  I almost didn’t recognize you, since you weren’t vandalizing my clinic.  It took a week to get all the graffiti, you know.”  Knock Out looked up at Optimus, still smirking.  “We _really_ don’t want any.”

 

The doors shut again, but Sideswipe _knew_ Knock Out was still right there.  Laughing at him.

 

 _Slagger_.

 

“Sideswipe, calm yourself.”  Optimus turned that oh-so-solemn gaze on him, and suddenly Sideswipe felt very small and very young.  “Whatever your issues with Knock Out, now is not the time.”

 

Sideswipe bit back a ‘says you’ and nodded sharply.

 

He’d get the slagger later.

 

Optimus was still watching him, and it felt like the weight of his regard was pushing Sideswipe into the ground.

 

Sideswipe dropped his chin and looked away.

 

With an air of quiet dignity that only came with centuries of leadership, Optimus Prime knocked.

 

* * *

 

 

Knock Out was not the least bit intimidated by the way Rafael was glaring at him.  He was going to have some fun with this, and nothing was going to stop him.

 

“The longer you draw this out, the more likely they’ll break the door down.  And then _you’ll_ have to explain to the money why ‘her’ laboratory doesn’t have any doors. _Again_.”

 

“So eager for the tearful reunion, fleshie?”

 

“Open the door, Knock Out.”

 

There came a gentle tap-tap-tapping, and Knock out let the doors crack open just a little.

 

“Why Optimus Prime, imagine seeing _you_ here!  My, aren’t you looking well.  Is that a new paint job?”

 

He was being an aft.  But they deserved it.  Hadn’t he been woken from a sound recharge by a panicky apprentice to fix her pet Insecticon?  And now he was going to have to deal with _Sideswipe_ on top of that.  He’d _earned_ this.

 

“Knock Out.”

 

No bot had _any_ business sounding that good when chiding someone, but Optimus Prime had a long history of not conforming to expectations.

 

Knock Out composed himself, trying to match the Prime’s gravitas while knowing that he was falling far short.  “Prime.  To what do we owe the pleasure?”

 

“I was not aware there were other Autobots on Earth.”  There was just a hint of a question there; Knock Out had only just changed sides in the literal last days of the war, and there was nothing to say that he _hadn’t_ gone back to his old allegiances in the years since.

 

“Some of us are better at going undetected than others.”  Knock Out pushed the doors open further, just enough to show that he still wore the Autobot badge.  It wasn’t out of any loyalty to cause or Prime, but he wore it all the same.  His eyes slide from Optimus to the rest of the motley crew.  The dinobot had been the subject of a thirty minute rant from Rafael during one of the human’s regular internet sweeps, and was something of a frequent offender, though there was not one of the Autobots there who had _not_ been caught on camera repeatedly.

 

It was hard, so hard, not to ask Bumblebee about the Rear Axle concert.

 

“Though there seems to have been an incident last night that has clearly brought us some attention…”

“An encounter with an Insecticon.”

 

 _Well_ .  Wasn’t _that_ an interesting way to phrase it.

 

“Yes, you certainly showed Bob what for.  He won’t be making any supply runs for a while.”  Knock Out glanced over his shoulder.  All of the humans who lived at the base full time were gathered now, watching the unfolding drama from the safety of the largest platform.

 

Monica and Ronni, he noted, were close enough to the untested shock cannon that if Knock Out got out of the way, they could probably do some serious damage to the Autobots outside.  In theory, the weapon shouldn’t be lethal to Cybertronians.  In practice?  It kept setting the test targets on fire.

 

And oh, wasn’t Sunstreaker’s face just a _picture_.  Their optics met briefly before she spun around, pretending to be engrossed in tending to Bob.

 

Knock Out pushed the doors the rest of the way open. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out has a very punch-able face.

Whatever it had once been, the cavernous room on the other side of the doors had been converted into a base that would have had Ratchet seething with envy..  There was space enough for even Grimlock to maneuver with relative ease, and the equipment looked new, rather than salvaged from the wreckage of a downed prison ship or cobbled together from outdated human hardware.

 

It even almost looked Cybertronian.

 

Optimus’s optics were drawn to the walls; someone had clearly spent a great deal of effort to recreate a Cybertronian cityscape on the granite, even going as far as to incorporate the platforms bolted to the walls in the design.

 

It appeared far from finished; much of the city was little more than a rough sketch, growing less and less detailed as it climbed towards the vaulted ceiling.

 

_How much paint_ , Optimus wondered, _would it take to finish?_

 

There were six humans watching from the largest of the platforms, the one that came up to the bottom of Optimus’s chest.  Their presence was… concerning.  While Optimus could not claim a great deal of personal knowledge of Knock Out, his disdain for humans was well known.

 

The humans regarded him with varying degrees of awe, curiosity, and in one case, an expression that could only be described as _melancholy_.

 

Curious.

 

Of equal interest was the medical lab set up on the far side of the chamber (the artist had painted a remarkably accurate image of Solas Prime there).  The Insecticon lay there, strapped to the slab and tended by a gold and black racing frame who seemed to be pointedly keeping her back to them.

  


Knock Out rubbed his servos together, grinning wickedly.  “Well now,” he said, looking around, “who needs introduced to who?”

 

“Knock Out…”  There was a distinct hint of irritation in the human’s tone, but he no longer looked quite so melancholy.

 

Knock Out leaned his back against the platform, smirking as he addressed the human.  “Sometime you need, doctor?”

 

The human pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger.  “You’ve had your fun.”

 

Knock Out rolled his optics.  “Alright, alright.  Lets see…” He pointed a thumb towards his chassis.  “Me you already know, either personally-” Another smirk, almost assuredly directed at Sideswipe, “-or by reputation.  The busted up bug is Bob, being attended by my apprentice-”

 

“Partner!” the gold racer snapped, not turning around.

 

“ _Apprentice_ , Sunstreaker.  Say hello, Sunny.”

 

“Frag you.”

 

Knock Out ex-vented dramatically as he turned a _what can you do?_ look on Optimus.  “I understand you made both their acquaintances last night.”  He gestured to the humans.  “Doctor Esquivel you already know…”

 

The human with the glasses curled his fingers in a little wave.  “Hey, guys.  Long time no see.”

 

For the first time, Optimus felt truly aware of how much time had passed since he had left Earth.  When he had last seen Rafael, the human had been just a child, barely past his first decade, bright and full of wonder at the universe expanding before him.  The man who stood at Knock Out’s side seemed more weary, as though that wondrous universe of his youth had found ways to disappoint him over and over again.

 

Maybe it was the slogan on his shirt.  It reminded Optimus of something the Senate would have plastered across Iacon to promote civic pride.  Everything they had used had been undeniably terrible.

 

“The less important members of our little crew are Sasha, Monica, Ronni-With-An-I, and Carl.  None of them are doctors.”  Knock Out pointed to each human in turn.

 

“Fuck you, rust bucket.  Not _all_ of us think lambskin is that important.”

 

Knock Out made a ride noise, pushing away from the platform and turning to address the humans.  “Distinguished colleges… and Ronni… allow me to introduce Optimus Prime, Last of the Primes, Savior Of The World on multiple occasions -- both this one and Cybertron-- and a bot who’s looking pretty good for someone I last saw cannonballing into the Well of Allsparks.”

 

With a flamboyant wave of a servo, he indicated Bumblebee.  “And his fantastically finished compatriot, who has the distinction of having once killed Megatron all by himself.  It didn’t take, but we don’t hold that against him.”

 

Finally, he glanced dismissively at Sideswipe.  “And that one got himself banned for life from Maccadam’s Oil House for gluing himself to the wall upside down.”

 

Knock out pivoted once more with a showman’s flourish, and it would have been impossible for him to miss the way Sideswipe’s servos clenched as he approached Windblade.  “The rest, I haven’t yet made the acquaintance of…”  He lifted one of Windblade’s servos, bowing over it.  “Though I’m looking forward to changing that.”

 

Windblade got  in the first blow, a strike to Knock Out’s face plate that sent him backwards.  Sideswipe got in the second, a hard punch that sent the medic to the ground.  Strongarm and Grimlock were almost as fast to intervene, pulling Sideswipe back by the collar of chassis and locking him in a bear hug respectively, and Bumblebee planted himself between the two red racers.

 

Just as well that they had, for Optimus found it necessary to block Sunstreaker’s dash to Knock Out’s aid, and now found himself face plate to shock staff with his assailant from the night before.

 

She was fast.

 

_He_ was a Prime.

 

He reached out, grabbed, and twisted, avoiding the electrified ends of the staff.  Sunstreaker was forced to release her hold or have her wrists broken.

 

Optimue had expected more of a struggle over the staff, but Sunstreaker was more interested in getting past him than engaging.  Still, compared to a good many opponents Optimus had faced, she was relatively easy to subdue.  A hand on a shoulder plate and a bit of pressure was enough to force her down on one knee.

 

Optimus was aware of the Insecticon struggling to rise from the medical berth in spite of the restraints.

 

“ _Stay_ , Bob!” Sunstreaker ordered, still trying to wiggle out of Optimus’s hold.

 

The Insecticon whined, still struggling.

 

Knock Out ran his fingers over his jaw.  “Nice to see you again too, Sideswipe.”  He rose to his peds, mouth open to say more, when he was interrupted.

  
“Does _someone_ want to tell me what the hell is going on?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lamborghinis are ALL about the Drama, and the Money has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day? Which one of you sold your soul to make me work?

Of _course_ Dagmar would turn up just in time to witness things turn into a fight.

 

Rafael had been waving Ronni and Monica away from the prototype shock cannon when _she_ had come waltzing in, looking like an escapee from the Stepford Wives.  She was even wearing a ridiculously large straw hat pinned to the back of her head in defiance of the laws of gravity.  She’d probably stuck a dozen hatpins in there to keep it in place, and Rafael made a mental note to not stand too close.

 

Dagmar Orlov had a bad habit of getting physical when she felt like she was being ignored.

 

She glanced at Rafael’s chest briefly, smirked, and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

 

At least she waited until everyone stopped moving to demand to know what was going on.

 

“Visitors from Crown City, ma’am,”  Sasha ( _that traitor_ ) supplied.  “Optimus Prime,” he added, jerking his chin towards where Optimus had Sunstreaker pinned.

 

Dagmar’s lips pinched, and Rafael could just guess how all this looked through her eyes.   _Her_ only friendly contact with Cybertronians to date was Knock Out and Sunstreaker.  To her, Optimus and Bumblebee and the rest were hostile strangers she’d already seen fighting her friends (for a given value of _friend._ Rafael was fairly certain Knock Out liked her best, anyway).

 

“Big man,” Dagmar murmured, resting her hands on the railing and leaning so far forward Rafael was worried she would fall.  Her expression was dark and her tone commanding when she spoke again.  “ _Big man wanna let the little girl up_?”

 

Optimus took his hand from Sunstreaker’s shoulder, extending it to help her up.  “My apologies.”

 

Sunstreaker ignored Optimus, rising with a studied show of indifference, but Rafael didn’t miss how quickly she got out of Optimus’s reach under the guise of going to Knock Out’s aid.

 

“No harm, no foul,” Knock Out announced even as Sunstreaker tutted over the dent in his jaw.  “Punches are a traditional Cybertronian greeting.  Nothing to get worked up about.”

 

Rafael just hoped the rest of them would go along with it.

 

“Well, it is when it comes to _you_ ,” Bee said lightly.  There was even a hint of a grin there, and Rafael felt himself relax slightly.

 

But _only_ slightly, because Sunstreaker and the still imprisoned Sideswipe were now locked in a staring contest with glares so hard they could have stripped paint.

 

Knock Out laid a hand on Sunstreaker’s arm.  “Things are a bit too noisy out here for the patient, don’t you think?”

 

Sunstreaker briefly turned the paint stripping glare on Knock Out before dropping her head and nodding.  “Yes, Doctor.”  She was careful to stay well away from Optimus as she retrieved her staff and returned to Bob’s side.  “C’mon Bob, walkies.”

 

“Wait, what happened to Bob?”  Dagmar demanded, dashing from one end of the platform to the other to get a better look at the injured Insecticon.  “Oh my God, did he get hit by a truck again?”

 

Sunstreaker jerked a thumb over her shoulder at Optimus.  “You could say that.”

 

_Dammit, Sunstreaker, could you_ **_not_ ** _for five minutes?_

 

“He attacked Bob?  Why would anyone attack _Bob_ ?  I _love_ Bob!”

 

And there it was, a rager of a headache forming behind Rafael’s eyes.

 

“Bob, sweet Bob, scream with me!”

 

Human and insecticon shrieked in unison.  Even Sunstreaker winced; Bob had to be right in her ear, the way she was helping him limp towards the inner chambers.  Not that Rafael had much sympathy left for her at that moment.

 

“Yeah, well, maybe if Insecticons weren’t a bunch of rampaging, drooling-”  Bumblebee slapped a hand over Sideswipe’s mouth before he could finish his tirade.

 

“Sideswipe.”  Rafael could see Bumblebee gritting his teeth even from across the room.  “Outside.  Now.”

 

“ _Sunstreaker_.”  Knock Out was dangerously calm, and it made the hairs on the back of Rafael’s neck stand on end.  Sunstreaker stopped where she was, shock staff held tightly in one hand.

 

Dagmar had gone quiet, but that just meant she was building up for her next round of theatrics.  The rest of his team were, thank God, staying the hell out of it, but they were mostly thoughtful and quiet people who liked to get all the data before they acted.

 

The big green dinosaur half dragged Sideswipe outside, trailed by Bumblebee.

 

Knock Out, Rafael noted, had a hand up and was counting down on his fingers.

 

“Five… four… three… two…”

 

At least Dagmar waited until both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were both out of the room.

 

“ _That’s_ Sideswipe?   _Sunny’s_ Sideswipe?”

 

“And one.”

 

Knock Out looked annoyingly pleased with himself.

 

This time, it was the blue and white SUV who spoke.  “I’m lost.   _What_ is going on here?”

 

“An excellent question.”  Dagmar clasped her hands behind her back, looking entreatingly at Knock Out.  “Hey Gorgeous, you look like you have all the answers.  Enlighten us?”

 

“I _just_ finished the introductions.”  Knock Out was trying to sound put out, but he was preening.  “I hate having to repeat myself.”

 

“Well, maybe if people would call me from the start, you wouldn’t have to keep repeating things.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bumblebee puts two and two together, and Knock Out tells a story.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on, Sideswipe?”

Okay, so Bumblebee was mad at him (even though he was trying not to show it). He’d been mad at Sideswipe before. Sideswipe could deal.

He stalled, rolling his shoulders and pretending to check his finish after Grimlock put him down. “Knock Out’s got a face that just begs to be punched.”

Bumblebee ex-vented loudly. “Yeah, okay, he’s an aft. But you are _seriously_ overreacting.”

“You don’t know anything about it!” Sideswipe snapped.

Bee didn’t just look angry anymore. He looked worried. Bumblebee stretched out his servos, his face an open invitation to confide in him. “So explain it to me.”

“Nothing to explain.”

Bumblebee’s face fell. He took a step back, looking at the closed doors. Sideswipe paced, acutely aware of what was lurking behind those doors.

“What about the other one, then? Sunstreaker? You know her?”

“Better than anyone.”

Sideswipe slapped a servo over his lip plates. He hadn’t meant to say that.

Bumblebee reset his optics. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Uh.”

“Girlfriend?” Grimlock asked with a knowing grin. He elbowed Sideswipe gently, and it was all Sideswipe could do not to punch _him_. “Not too bad, if racers are your thing. Bet she’s good on the sharp curves...”

“Ew, _no_!” Sideswipe twisted away from Grimlock, his tank roiling at the very thought. “And don’t talk about her like that! _Ew!_ ”

“Amica?” Bumblebee guessed. “No…” He shook his head and tried again. “... Sister?”

Sideswipe looked anywhere but at Bumblebee.

Grimlock greeted the news with all the tact and grace dinobots were known for.

“Sideswipe’s got a sister? Man, that’s _awesome_! You shoulda told me! Why _didn’t_ ya tell me? I thought we were buds?”

And now Grimlock was giving him that sad petro-rabbit look, like he was actually hurt that Sideswipe had never brought Sunny up even once in the three months they’d known each other.

“Well, _maybe_ if _she_ hadn’t ditched _me_ to go running after Doc Knock, I woulda introduced ya!”

But she had. And Sideswipe hadn’t.

And _they_ were supposed to be in Iacon. What in the Pit were they doing on Earth?

* * *

 

Take notes, _Knock Out said._ I’m **not** going to repeat myself.

For the last twenty years, I’ve done everything right. I’ve been a good little Autobot, I’ve stayed out of trouble, and I even opened a clinic. I take pro-bono clients, even. Sometimes.

So imagine my surprise when, the day after I hear that the famous war hero Bumblebee had gotten a bounty on his head and run off to Earth, I had a dream.

No. Not a dream.

A vision.

Solas Prime came to me in a **vision** and ordered me to go to Earth, to bring knowledge and enlightenment to the fleshies, to teach them how to fight what’s coming.

_Knock Out scowled._ I’m not a pious mech. I don’t think Primus has a plan for all of us, or that the Thirteen are all that much about what we do. But when Solas Prime interrupts your recharge every solar cycle for a **week**... Even I start to listen.

Now, unlike **some** mechs I can think of, I happen to have… mm… acquaintances who were more than happy to quietly get me access to a space bridge.

I’d planned to come alone, but my apprentice… well, she’s smarter than she looks. I’m still not sure how she figured out what I was up to, but I decided that letting her come along would be punishment enough for her spying. And I suppose someone needed to carry my equipment.

So. Here I was, back on this Primus forsaken mudball, under orders to help the fleshies. **Me**. And they say Primus doesn’t have a sense of humor.

Now, knowing what I know about the natives, I wasn’t about to go around dispensing my valuable knowledge randomly. **I** was going to find one of the few humans who could not only be relied upon to **not** dissect me, but **actually** understand what I was telling him.

_Knock Out waved a claw at Rafael._

_“That almost sounded like a compliment, Knock Out.”_

You **should** be flattered. I actually trust you to keep up.

So, I went looking for the good doctor over there.

_Rafael snorted. “We found you first.”_

Who’s telling this story?

But yes, they found us first. Saved me a lot of time, really. And here we are! So…

_Knock out smirked up at Optimus._

What’s **your** story?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions unasked, and a distress call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some little things that I feel like RiD 2015 should take some effort to remember. Like the fact that Drift has his own ship -- or would have to have one, unless someone was giving bounty hunters unlimited access to things like Space Bridges.

It was like being twelve years old again.

There he was, surrounded by titans, in the middle of world shaping events... and all but ignored unless he was doing something useful for a giant robot.

No, that wasn't true and it wasn't fair. Bee had always had time for him, and so had Ratchet, in his own grumpy way. None of them had actually been neglectful in any way. That was just the old hurts talking, and Rafael wasn't going to let that nasty little voice have its way.

The memory of coming to the hanger and finding it stripped still hurt. Ratchet had stayed just long enough to tell them that Optimus was dead, and that he would be returning to Cybertron to help with the reconstruction. Indefinitely.

Rafael remembered how thick with grief Ratchet's voice had been, and how he hadn't been able to even say goodbye, like the words got stuck in his throat.

He wanted to ask Optimus if Ratchet knew he was alive.

He wanted to know if _any_ of them had spared a thought about the people they had left being, and the promises they'd broken.

_I'm only a space bridge away my entire ass._

He wanted to follow Bee outside and... God, he didn't know what he wanted.

What he _did_ was turn to his people. His team. "C'mon folks, we've got work to do," he said softly, trying not to draw Dagmar's attention. For the moment, she was more interested in the giant robots -- a nice big shiny distraction that Rafael wasn't going to let get away from him. Let the Autobots keep her busy while they got on with the _real_ work.

There would be time enough for his questions later. He'd _make_ time.

"Ronni, Inez, you're on fabrication. Sasha, I need fresh eyes on my math-" _And you read Cybertronian almost as good as I do,_ he didn't say. "Monica, back to monitor duty. Carl, I need a report on the latest batch of solar energon by the end of the day. I'll send Sunny your way ASAP." He waited a moment, eyes flicking from face to face. His team. The Earth's best chance at being able to defend itself. People like him. "Chop chop, people! You'd think you'd never seen an Autobot before."

"Yeah, okay, but... this is kinda..." Inez held her hands apart as though she were measuring something. "Big. Like, Anaheim big. Like, you told us _stories_ about these guys and I thought you were bullshitting us but now that I see them I know that everything you said is true big."

"You'll see bigger before we're through." Rafael glanced back to the Autobots. Optimus was talking quietly to Knock out, with Dagmar practically hanging off the railing to catch every word.

Rafael wanted to go after Bee.

Instead, he picked up a tablet and loaded the schematics that had been tormenting him for the last three months.

* * *

 

"Fixit to Lieutenant Bumblebee, do you read?"

Bumblebee answered the comm with a sigh, grateful for the distraction. Fixit's image flickered to life above his arm. "Go ahead, Fixit."

"Incoming distress call from the rest of the _Alchemor_. Ship taking heavy fire, returning to Earth. Unable to make contact with Cybertron. Drift, Slipstream, and Jetstorm are already in the stratosphere providing cover."

"Groundbridge to my coordinates, Fixit. Bumblebee out." Bumblebee activated his short wave comm. ::Time to roll, people. Alchemor's under attack and coming back our way.::

::Understood, Bumblebee.:: Optimus replied.

Bumblebee wasn't sure if he was grateful to have the trip cut short. He _wanted_ a chance to talk to Raf, but... not like this. Not with so much else going on.

With a heavy ex-vent, he pushed the thought to the back of his processor.

There was work to be done.

"Lets rev up and roll out!"

* * *

 

"What. An. Ass."

Knock Out hummed in agreement, a cheeky grin lifting his lip plates when he turned to face Dagmar. Optimus's quietly commed parting words still ran in his audials.

_We can protect them. They do not need weapons._

Dagmar took his grin exactly the way she was meant to. "Not even remotely what I meant."

Knock Out had no doubt that the human had picked up on the Prime's displeasure at the idea of the humans being capable of taking on a Cybertronian threat without _his_ help and guidance. She was a perceptive little fleshie, after all.

Anyway, Optimus could go straight to the Pit if he thought Knock Out was going to stop now. Not when they were so close to a breakthrough.

Monica's voice crackled over the loudspeaker. "Hey guys, I got something you might wanna hear."

Knock Out raised a taloned servo, allowing Dagmar to climb onto his palm. Carrying her over was faster than having her scramble across to the security station, the way Rafael was.

The largest monitor flickered to life, replaying what had happened outside that had drawn Optimus and his merry band away.

_"Incoming distress call from the **Alchemor** -"_

Well wasn't that _interesting_.

Apparently, Rafael thought so too. "Monica, satellite link. I think it's time to give our detection systems a thorough test. Put the field teams on alert. If _any_ of this comes close enough to one, I want boots on the ground. Standard orders apply; stay _out_ of the Autobot's way. Anything else is ours."

There were times when Knock Out wondered if this is what it had been like for M.E.C.H.

Watching. Waiting. Grabbing any opportunity that came their way.

_Putting a lot of trust in these fleshies..._ he thought. Glancing down at his palm, he watched Dagmar hold his thumb carefully. One slip, and she could cut herself badly. One squeeze, and he could turn her into an oozing lump of flesh. _And they're putting a lot of trust in me._

He had to, just like they did, if he was going to fulfill the command he'd been given.

The reward was worth the risk.

"This _Alchemor_... What is it?" Dagmar asked.

"Prison ship?" Knock Out guessed. "I recognize the design of the minicon."

Senator Node had been so _proud_ of getting the contract for the mass produced guard bots secured for his friend. He hadn't been able to shut up about them the entire time he'd been on Knock Out's slab, and Knock Out did have an eye for detail.

"Interesting..."

Knock Out hummed in agreement.

A ship full of big, bad prisoners who no one was likely to miss.

The real trick would be getting them _first_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is Steeljaw.

"Oh _good_. Someone I can _hit_."

Steeljaw twisted away, allowing Sideswipe's blade to strike through soft, organic wood rather than his armor.

The idiot had made a grave error in pursuing him alone, and if Steeljaw hadn't been more interested in putting distance between himself and Bumblebee, he'd have already shown the brat what the insides of his protoform looked like.

But Steeljaw had bigger problems than one jumped up street punk turned Decepticon hunter.

_Someone_ had once again forced the _Alchemor_ to crash land on Earth.

_Someone_ had managed to get _into_ the _Alchemor_ and slaughtered the minicon guards.

_Someone_ was enacting a plot, and Steeljaw wanted to know who... and how he could turn it to his advantage.

But that meant staying free, which meant getting as _far_ from the crash site as he could until he was ready to utterly annihilate Bumblebee and his team.

It would have been immensely satisfying to tear the brat's helm from his shoulders and present it to Bumblebee, but _that_ would only increase pursuit. The Autobots were obnoxiously tightly bonded.

_No,_ Steeljaw thought as he used the fallen tree to catch Sideswipe's blade and twist it from his servos, _I'm going to have to let him live. For now._

The brat was distracted and angry.

Good. It slowed him down, made him less aware.

Made it easier to get him on the ground, to bring a pede down on a kneecap.

Sideswipe was still howling when Steeljaw sped away.

* * *

 

"What were you thinking, going after Steeljaw alone?" Ratchet glared down at the dented patella, wiggling it free to get better access to the damaged energon line and the tangled, crushed wires beneath. "You're lucky I'm not going to have to detach the limb to fix this."

"You call _this_ lucky?" Sideswipe snapped. He squirmed as Ratchet raised his glare from the damaged knee to his opticts, patching the crushed and leaking energon line without even looking.

" _Lucky,_ " Ratchet repeated. "He had you on the ground, disarmed, and _alone_. _This_ is little more than a mesh wound."

He'd been dealing with far worse since the first survivors from the _Alchemor's_ second crash had begun to trickle through the ground bridge.

From what he could piece together, one of the attacking ships had managed to breach the hull with an EM missile. A boarding party had the proceeded to make short work of the offlined guards. Most had been executed with brutal efficiency, but some...

Someone had released the prisoners, and some of the freed Decepticons had celebrated by taking slow, painful revenge on their guards.

Ratchet had left Sideswipe to stew once he had determined that the injury was neither life threatening nor time sensitive, focusing his effort on the minicons until he was sure the survivors were stabilized.

Undertone took on the task of cleaning away the dried energon fouling the wires while Ratchet bent himself to reshaping the damaged patella, running his torch at its greatest heat to render the metal maliable.

"You won't be doing any transforming until this is _fully_ healed. No patrols, no field missions-" Ratched pointed a digit first at Sideswipe, then Bumblebee. " _No arguments_. Further damage could permanently impair motor functions. I would rather _not_ have to attempt major surgery under these primitive conditions.

He'd already stripped his own ship to turn the scrapyard's crude facilities into something tolerably functional, and saving the minicons had all but tapped out their limited resources.

At least the patella was reshaping itself nicely.

"We could always drop in on Knock Out," Grimlock suggested. "Looked like he's got a pretty sweet set up."

"Is _that_ who decided that Optimus would look better in pink?"

Grimlock danced up to Ratchet, face split in a wide grin. "Noooo, _that_ was Sideswipe's sister..."

Sideswipe snatched the bottle of solvent from Undertone and hurled it at Grimlock's helm. "Shut up!"

Grimlock turned a hurt look on Sideswipe, and Ratchet bent to retrieve the leaking bottle of solvent. "This is the last bottle I had," he said slowly, sweeping his arm to direct Sideswipe's gaze to the minicons Fixit was hovering over. "We _needed_ that."

Sideswipe at least had the good sense to look embarrassed.

Ratchet returned to the patella. "So. Knock Out," he prompted.

"Long story." Bumblebee ex-vented heavily.

"I'm sure someone can find a way to condense it for me." Ratchet inspected the patella once more. Still warm enough to be put back in place easily, and back in its proper shape. "Undertone, brace."

He ignored the way Sideswipe's optics went wide. Perhaps Undertone had used a bit too much force, but Sideswipe would live.

* * *

 

Far from the crash site, bright lights blinded Steeljaw's optics just long enough for the shock staff to blindside him.

"Oh _good_. Someone I can _hit_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Steeljaw.
> 
> I'm gonna pick on him so much.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raf and Bumblebee finally get a few minutes.

The second visit, Bumblebee went alone.

He was spared Knock Out's door games, allowed inside by Sunstreaker after just one knock.

"Hey, Doc! Company!" she announced, striding back across the room, obviously returning to the Insecticon and one of the humans. Just glancing at the set up, Bumblebee couldn't have said what they were up to, but it _looked_ suspiciously like an energon still.

"Thanks Sunny, I'll take it from here," Raf called out from the largest platform, pulling away from something that looked distinctly cannon-like.

Bumblebee wasn't sure how he felt about being turned over to Raf, but he wasn't about to protest. "Where's Knock Out?"

Raf pulled a pair of welding goggles down around his neck, pulling his glasses out of a pocket and perching them on his face. "He went out for a drive. Should be back in a few hours, if you'd rather wait."

"No, no, this is fine." Bumblebee found himself studying Raf's face, looking for the boy who'd been his friend.

He still wore square framed glasses, and his hair still refused to acknowledge the laws of gravity. The face was a little trimmer, and there was something weary about his smile.

Raf was younger than Denny by a decade, but he seemed older. Something about the eyes, maybe, or the way he leaned his whole weight against the rails.

Noticing Bumblebee's scrutiny, Raf threw his shoulders back and spread his arms, doing a little turn.

Bumblebee laughed, and Raf joined him with a snicker that shaved a few years off. "Okay, if we're done staring-"

"It's good to see you, Raf." Bumblebee came to the rails. He let one hand rest lightly next to Raf, and he smiled.

"No one calls me _Raf_ anymore. These days it's Rafael. Or Doc."

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

Was it?

Bumblebee stared at Rafael across the gulf of twenty years, trying to find something to bridge it.

"So, what brings you out?" Rafael asked. "Or is this just a social call?"

" 'Fraid not," Bumblebee admitted, feeling like a total aft. "we're... kinda low on some critical supplies. We were hoping Knock Out... well, you all... might have some to spare."

The concern in Rafael's voice was genuine. "Everyone okay?"

Bumblebee grimaced and shrugged. "It's... kinda bad," he admitted. "We've got a bunch of injured minis, and Sideswipe managed to take a hit that's-"

Something shattered.

_"Jesus Sunny, take it easy on the equipment!"_

Bumblebee and Rafael were both careful not to look. "-gonna keep him grounded for a while, but he's basically fine," he went on, just a little louder. "Ratchet's trying to make do, but we're not exactly set up for so many casualties."

Rafael nodded. "Let's see what we've got in storage." He leaned over the railing, cupping his hands around his mouth. " _Hey,_ Carl! Can I borrow Sunstreaker for a minute?"

"Get her away from me before she ruins the whole batch!"

"Frag you, Carl. Bob, stay." Sunstreaker said with no real anger. She abandoned the project and sauntered over, wiping her servos on a rag. Knock Out could have made the saunter look natural, but on Sunstreaker it looked calculated and inauthentic. Bumblebee did his best not to laugh or roll his optics. How many times had he watched Sideswipe do the same thing? "What's up, Doc?" she asked as if she hadn't heard everything.

"Bee's got a medical situation. What can we spare?"

Sunstreaker looked up at the ceiling, lips pursed. "I think we can manage some basic field kits. Did your medic send you with a wish list, or...?"

"No list, just anything you can spare."

"Right..." She met Bumblebee's optics briefly and nodded, the veneer of Knock Out dropping away. "Give me an hour, two tops. What's your energon situation look like?"

"Couldn't say no if you've got some extra cubes on hand."

" _Something_ like that. We've been working on an alternative. Tastes like it was brewed in the Pit, but if you process it to medical grade, you won't notice the difference." She turned back to Carl and Bob. "Bob, cube that last batch! Carl, latest notes."

"I can have them ready by the time he leaves!" Carl called back, scrambling to get out of Bob's way as the Insecticon started draining the still.

"Have Ratchet look them over," Rafael said. "We could use a fresh pair of eyes on the project."

"Synthetic energon?" Bumblebee asked. He couldn't help but be wary; synthetic energon was dangerous, even when it was stable.

"Solar," Rafael informed him with considerable pride. "We haven't seen any untoward side effects-"

"It just tastes like something crawled out of the Sea of Rust and died in your intake." Sunstreaker pulled a face. "If you need anything else, comm me." She disappeared deeper into the base with a breeze wave of her servo, leaving Bumblebee and Rafael alone once more.

Bumblebee reset his optics. "That was easy."

"Remember that when she's making you taste test the next batch."

They fell into an awkward silence, watching Bob methodically cube and stack the faintly orange energon. Bumblebee shifted his weight from one pede to the other. "She's... gonna be a while. Isn't she."

"Mmhm."

Bumblebee looked around, taking in the surprisingly recognizable sights of Kaon painted on the walls. "Wanna... go for a drive?"

There was something wonderful about the way Rafael's face lit up. "Sure."

 

It was easier to talk out on the road. Maybe it was something about the thrum of tires against asphalt, or the intimacy of having Rafael in his cab again, but suddenly it was like those twenty years didn't matter.

Bumblebee talked about rebuilding Cybertron and ending up in the Kaon Police Force. Rafael told him about Unit E closing down and Miko being technically not allowed in the US anymore. ("Not that that stops her. We can thank Dagmar for that.")

Bumblebee filled him in on where the rest of Team Prime was, as far as he knew, and Rafael spoke of Jack becoming a doctor ("The other kind, more like Ratchet."), and Rafael's own hunt for people like him.

It was only when Bumblebee talked about why he'd come back to Earth that Rafael grew quiet again.

"Whatever the reason, I'm glad you're back, Bee."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steeljaw is not having a good day.

Steeljaw realized, far too late, that the little yellow racer had been a decoy, meant to get him in place for the humans and their weapon. His last thoughts, before the pain offlined him, where of how surprised she'd looked when he caught fire.

" _I thought you fixed that!_ "

He awoke some time later to find his internal chronometer on the fritz, laying in what was possibly the most comfortable berth this side of Iacon. He felt like he was floating, though that might have been a side effect of the nanite gel someone had slathered over his burns. The lights were down low, casting the world into comforting shadow without blacking it out entirely.

The soothing effect was somewhat marred by the way he was strapped to the berth, and by the corpse on the other side of the room.

Steeljaw's glossa felt heavy has he tried to call out, but all his vocalizer produced was static. The corpse across the room remained disturbingly still, and he looked about for _anything_ to distract him from from wondering who it was under that sheet, and how long it would be until he joined him.

Someone had painted a replica of _The Birth Of The Thirteen_ on the ceiling, though the artist had taken a great many liberties with the forms of the Primes.

Steeljaw had been there when his revolutionaries had stormed the Helix Museum Of Culture And History, and had laughed at the curator's cries when they'd melted the original metal slab _The Birth Of The Thirteen_ had been stamped on.

Steeljaw reset his vocalizer and tried again. All he could produce was a raspy, strained, "Anyone... there?"

The corpse, predictably, didn't answer.

His burns were starting to tingle painfully. How long had he been out, that the nanite gel had lost its efficacy?

" _Hello?_ "

An observation panel set into the room's only door snapped open just long enough for Steeljaw to catch a glimpse of blue optics.

The panel shut again, and Shteeljaw could just barely make out the low murmur of voices. He was about to call out again when the door opened, and the Autobot who had attacked him entered carrying a tray. She was trailed by a hulking Insecticon, and Steeljaw was suddenly, painfully aware of all the stories he'd ever heard about Insecticons dragging unsuspecting bots off to their hives to slowly drain them of their energon.

If the Autobot knew or cared, she gave no sign. Instead, she pulled a table over and set the tray down, outside of Steeljaw's reach even if he hadn't been tied down. The sloshing of the energon cube in the middle of the tray made him acutely aware of how empty his tanks were. It glowed faintly orange in low light.

_That_ the Autobot _did_ notice. She picked up the cube and a jar. "Food or gel first?"

The pain, Steeljaw decided, would be tolerable for a little longer. "Please, sister, I haven't refueled in so long..."

He sounded weak and pathetic. Exactly the way he wanted to. Steeljaw had had more than a few soft sparked bots melt for the wounded petro-rabbit act in the past.

"Call me that again and I'll leave you with Bob," the Autobot snapped, dropping a straw into the cube with more force than necessary.

The Insecticon chittered, looming.

"Forgive me, I meant no offence," Steeljaw murmured, dropping his optics. He half expected the energon to be flung at his helm. Instead, the Autobot directed the autobot to raise the berth, tilting it so Steeljaw was upright and able to drink comfortably.

It didn't do anything for the taste, but at least he wasn't choking on the energon.

Steeljaw took his time, studying his captors.

The Autobot, he already knew, wasn't much of a fighter. All he'd have to do was get close enough, and a few good blows would bring her down.

The Insecticon... he'd need distance to deal with that. Although. Although. Insecticons were notorious for following the toughest bot around. Apparently, _that_ was the racer, at least for the moment. A swift beatdown of the little glitch, and _he'd_ have the Insecticon for his pack.

He just needed to get _free_

"What is this place? Where are we?" He did his best to sound lost and afraid. The corpse on the other side of the room helped. Despite himself, Steeljaw kept glancing at the shroud draped form, large and bulky and so still that it made Steeljaw's armor tighten around his protoform.

The Autobot set the now empty cube aside, twisting open the jar of nanite gel.

"May I at least have a name?"

Her optics swept over Steeljaw's frame, her expression thoughtful. She tapped the Insecticon on the arm. "Get me a patch, then give the lights a quarter turn. The left optic looks better, but I don't want to stress it."

"I'm Steeljaw," he tried. "Please, I'm not your enemy."

"No," the Autobot agreed, "right now you're my patient." She ex-vented heavily, taking the patch from the Insecticon. "Close your optic." She smoothed the patch over the side of his faceplate. "Sunstreaker."

"Sunstreaker..." Steeljaw's other optic drifted to her Insecticon shadow. "And Bob?"

The Insecticon chirruped what he took to be an affirmation.

Sunstreaker's servos were surprisingly gentle as she slathered the nanite gel on his aching burns, and Steeljaw was acutely aware of the opportunity coming. She would _have_ to let him up to get to the burns on his back.

And by the _Pit_ , those were starting to hurt.

Pain had a wonderfully clarifying effect on Steeljaw's processor; he was in no shape to fight, whoever had him had no attention of killing him yet... and given enough time, he could talk anyone around.

A medic would be useful to his pack.

He could always gut her later, if it didn't work out.

With that decided, his battered frame relaxed. " _Thank you_ , Sunstreaker." He didn't even have to feign gratitude; the nanite gel acted quickly to soothe his pain, leaving Steeljaw feeling light he was floating slightly above his frame,

He didn't even notice that his optics were off lining as he drifted.

 

Sunstreaker watched the Decepticon fall into recharge with a grin. "You know, I don't think he even noticed I drugged his energon?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sideswipe is conscripted to work for Ratchet during his convalescence, and Sunstreaker has multiple motives.

"Careful with those!" Ratchet snapped.

Sideswipe bit his glossa and made a show of carefully putting the mesh patches into storage. He turned, his moves made slow by the brace Ratchet had forced on him as soon as he'd spotted it mixed in with the rest of the junk Bumblebee had dragged back.

Stuck! Trapped! Confined to base and conscripted to work for the Hatchet!

Playing nursemaid was so not his style, so Ratchet banished him to sorting while he, Fixit, and Undertone made use of the supplies fragging Knock Out had oh-so-graciously gifted them.

 

_"This could be the start of a whole new life for us, 'Swiper."_

_"What's wrong with the life we **have** , Sunny?"_

 

Sideswipe shut down the replay on that memory file almost as fast as it loaded.

"Sideswipe, I need that nanite gel."

Was there something in medic coding that made them rude and unlikable?

Throwing a little extra hobble into his limp, Sideswipe delivered the nanite gel to Ratchet's waiting servo. He tried not to look at the little bots on their makeshift slabs; there wasn't much he could do for them in the state he was in.

Besides, glitchy as he might be, Ratchet was a _legend_. The only thing Sideswipe could do was get in the way.

* * *

 

There was a steadily growing collection of _things I meant to give Bumblebee_ taking up space in the lab.

"I hope you weren't planning to give them _all_ our supplies," Knock Out drawled.

"We can get more, and _this_ was we're less likely to get another surprise visit. Wouldn't want someone less easily distracted snooping around in the back. Right, Boss?" Sunstreaker checked off another item on her data pad, twirling her stylus between her digits.

"And how _is_ the patient?" Knock Out asked, watching Bob carefully stack part of what _had_ been their spare medical berth.

Sunstreaker gave the stylus another thoughtful twirl. "Chatty, when he's awake. Do _all_ Decepticons love the sound of their vocalizers so much?" She gave the pile a thoughtful look. "Bob, get me the green box from my berth please?"

Knock Out arched an optical ridge, but said nothing. _He_ knew exactly what was in the green box, but he wasn't about to question why she was willing to give up anything from her precious hoard of personal supplies.

"That should just about do it. Enjoy your trip. I hear Crown City is lovely this time of year." Sunstreaker scrawled a signature and sent the manifest off with a tap of the stylus.

Knock Out didn't bother with hiding his smirk. He rested a servo on his cocked hip, talons tapping on his thigh. "What makes you think you're staying here? This is _your_ project."

There was something delightful about the way the stylus almost snapped in half, and but he really was going to have to train that habit away.

Sunstreaker's tone was surprisingly calm. "I'm needed here. The patient-"

Knock Out waved a servo, dismissing her concern. "Bob is more than up to the task. You won't be away long, and if something _does_ come up, _they_ have a ground bridge." _And you,_ he thought, _will make a wonderful distraction while the squishies get a good look at it._


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a reciprocal visit is made.

The call from Raf - Rafael - came more or less out of the blue.

"Hey, Bee! I know this is kinda a surprise, but- _slow down this isn't a race_ -"

Nearly drowned out by the roar of rushing wind, Bumblebee though he heard someone shout "Says you!"

"Sorry about that- anyway, after you left, Sunny found a couple thousand things that she insists you can't live without..."

Bumblebee grinned to himself. "I can ground bridge over and pick them up any time."

"No need. We're kinda in Crown City right- _Red light! **Red light!**_ "

Tires screeched, and Bumblebee could hear shouting in the distance, fading fast.

"Oh God... Bee, could I get some directions before this madwoman plows into something trying to show off? _You can't beat them! They're more aerodynamic, more fuel efficient, and better drivers!_ "

"You okay? Where are you?" A quick ground bridge in and out, and Rafael would be out of whatever danger he was in.

"Somewhere near the airport, and I'll be find as soon as I'm not in a car trying to race- _you're going to make Ronni throw up, you know that? You **want** puke all over these seats?_ Directions, Bee, please. Send 'em to Knock Out and we'll follow."

"Are they _both_ here?" Bumblebee's optics found where Sideswipe was sulking, despite Russell, Jetstorm, and Slipstream's best efforts to cheer him up. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Ever hear the joke about the eight hundred pound gorilla? I couldn't stop them if I wanted to- _don't don't don't oh God_ \- and Knock Out said he wanted to field test Su- _one way street! This is a one way street!_ "

"Comming Knock Out now."

"Thank you!"

* * *

 

Ultimately, Ratchey decided that the best thing, in light of what he'd been told, would be for Sideswipe to be kept busy well away from patients. Drift's apprentices were more happy to help with keeping him distracted.

Now if only he could convince Grimlock to take himself elsewhere.

They had tried, of course, even going as far as to offer to send him out with Strongarm, but the dinobot had planted himself near the gates and would not be moved.

"Two Autobot signals approaching, Lieutenant," Fixit announced.

Ratched pretended not to notice the way Bumblebee was tensing up. The warrior was still young enough to be at the beck and call of his spark rather than his processor, and Rafael had left... an impression.

Ratchet was willing to admit that he had missed the youngest of their charges too, but he wasn't about to allow himself to get knotted up about it.

Three cars raced through the gates; two transformed into the all too familiar Knock Out and the unfamiliar Sunstreaker, while the third - a shockingly pink convertable - disgorged two of the three humans within.

"I know it's a total cliche," the round one with the dark skin said, laying face down on the dirt and gravel, "but I am never leaving the ground again!"

"You two have no sense of adventure," the one still in the car retorted.

"I have an excellent sense of adventure," the third said. "And I'd _still_ rather ride in Knock Out's trunk!"

"Is that an option?"

"I'll drive you back, Rafael," Bumblebee offered.

The other humans gaped. "Wait. Riding in you guys _is_ an option?" the one still in the car asked.

Knock Out crossed his arms. " _No_ , it's not, and don't you encourage them!" He waved an admonishing claw at Bumblebee.

Undeterred, the human turned her gaze to Sunstreaker. "Sunny...?"

Sunstreaker shuddered, a move full of drama and disgust. "Ew! Do you _know_ how much dermis you people shed? I'd never be able to get it all out!"

"Hi, Sunny!"

If Ratchet had believed in fate, or karma, or any kind of guiding force in the universe that punished people for things like snobbery or chucking paints at Primes, he would have thought Grimlock an agent of such a force. He swept Sunstreaker up in a metal denting hug, ignoring her shrieked admonishment to watch the finish.

"It is _so_ awesome to finally meet you! I'm Grimlock, and I'm Sideswipe's _best_ buddy!"

Sideswipe was peering around the clutter of shelves, trying not to be seen and failing miserably, at least from where Ratchet stood. From the slowly growing smirk on Knock Out's face, he'd spotted the young speedster too.

"Hear that, Sunny. Sideswipe's best friend."

"He'd be my friend too if he'd _put me down!_ "

Ratchet didn't miss the way the gold speedster moved towards the transformation seams on Grimlock's chassis. If she got a digit in those, she could _make_ him put her down, and lay him out for a good long while besides.

Grimlock took the hint, letting Sunstreaker drop. She staggered back, inspecting herself for damage.

"Well, as amusing as this all is," Knock Out drawled, " _we_ are here on a mission of mercy." He turned to Ratchet. "You have wounded minicons, and my apprentice-"

"Partner!"

" _Apprentice_ and I are both happy to offer what aid we can."

Ratchet's optics narrowed. ::What are you up to?::

::Need a consult. **Not** in front of the sparkling.::

_Wonderful._

* * *

 

Sideswipe was watching them.

Sunstreaker was intensely aware that Sideswipe was watching them, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting that glitch _know_ she knew he was there.

Frag him.

Knee brace seemed to be doing the job, but a closer look-

Sunstreaker shut down that line of thought _hard_ and focused her attention on the patient in front of her, glad that Ratchet had managed to chase Grimlock off. The last thing she needed was obnoxious chatter about Sideswipe in her audial.

Cracked chassis, crushed T-Cog, popped tires, one optic torn completely out, faceplate scored - someone had wanted the little bot to _suffer_.

"All things considered, the optic's the only thing that's not an easy fix."

"Your reasoning?"

And oh sweet Solus Prime, she was having to defend her reasoning to _the_ Ratchet. The CMO of the Autobots all through the war, a mech who'd had a hand in saving the life of the Prime more times than anyone could count, who'd helped restore life to Cybertron with his brilliance. The most famous medic on either side of the war.

_Dignity and grace, Sunny. You know what you're doing._

"Because it's the only thing we don't have a spare for that won't heal on it's own. Yeah, the T-Cog's mangled, but you give me a day with a half decent forge and I can get it back in shape. An optic is a bit more... specialized. Of course, if we've got any minis from the same line not using their optics anymore..."

Ratchet grunted. Approval? Disagreement? Disgust?

Knock Out said she had the instincts of a field medic, but it was just good sense. Down in Kaon, you didn't let parts go to waste, and no one cared about the source, or who was doing the operating, as long as it _worked_.

Sunstreaker glanced at Knock Out, but his expression gave away nothing.

It was a test. It was _always_ a test. _Everything_ had been a test from the moment Knock Out had turned up at the cramped apartment she and Sideswipe had shared, looking for the bot who'd done Pit Pass's new look before the championship bout.

_This is what you wanted, Sunny. With recognition comes challenge._

"Undertone, see if you can't find a matching optic," Ratchet said to the minibot at his side.

Undertone rolled silently away, a white shadow in a sea of orange minicons.

Sunstreaker didn't relax. Sideswipe had crept closer, flanked by a pair of minis. Not the identical mass produced guards they were working on, but certainly a matched set.

"Little ghoulish, don't you think?"

Oh, he was going to be _snide_ today. "You didn't think so when it was your digits on the line."

Choke on _that_.

 

Knock Out ex-vented dramatically. "Is there anything more obnoxious than split sparks squabbling?"

Ratchet opened his mouth to answer, throwing a glare at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Their voices were rising with every retort. " _Yes_ , but I'm having a hard time remembering _what_."

The topic had gone from ghoulish habits to ingratitude to general rudeness with remarkable speed.

"Been like this long?"

"Couple stellar cycles. An unhealthy drive to prove herself _useful_ , not recharging as efficiently as she should. Glitch in the processor causing interrupted cycles. Him?"

Ratchet grunted. "Notable anxiety over being replaced, and of late-" The two speedsters were almost chassis to chassis now, and they weren't _yelling_ , but there was nothing pleasant about their tones, "-increased irritability. Total close off?" he guessed.

"Most likely. Course of treatment?"

Ratchet gestured to the twins. "If this were Cybertron, I'd say send them to a therapist. Otherwise, keep bringing them together... preferably _not_ in my medbay." Ratchet raised his voice, drawing the attention of the speedsters. "Yip yip yip! If you're not here to work, _leave_!"

For a moment, there was blessed silence.

"See what you did?"

"Well, what're _you_ gonna do? Paint 'em pretty colors so they'll feel better?"

"Maybe I will!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optimus only meant to observe.

Optimus had only meant to observe when he returned from patrol. And that was exactly what he had done.

He observed Denny haggle with Dagmar over the price of a brightly pink dinosaur statue.

He observed Rafael, Bumblebee, Fixit, and a human identified as Ronni-With-An-I discussing the lack of importance of gender in a modern digital world. The conversation seemed to mainly consist of Ronni and Fixit agreeing that gender was something for lesser beings, and Fixit wondering why it would matter to any sensible species in the first place. Rafael seemed far more interested in Fixit's command center than the conversation.

He observed Slipstream and Jetstorm restraining Grimlock and assuring him that the _last_ thing he wanted to do was get involved in what was brewing.

He observed Knock Out and Ratchet pretending to ignore Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

And he observed Sideswipe and Sunstreaker fighting about the importance of a paint job.

Sideswipe dismissed it as touchy-feely Spectralist nonsense, while Sunstreaker insisted that studies had proven that mechs with good paint jobs had stronger self repair nanites due to their happier, more satisfied EM fields.

They were also fighting over a green box, both attempting to yank it from the other's grasp.

Optimus observed the box go flying, contents scattering.

**_thwunk_ **

Then he observed nothing but orange paint dripping into his optics.

There was a stifled laugh ( _Ratchet_ ), and two identical whines. Optimus did his best to clear his optics, only barely able to see the two speedsters, frozen in place and identical in their horror.

Sunstreaker transformed, peeling out of the scrapyard at impressive speed, and Sideswipe looked like he would have given anything to be able to follow.

"Orange," Knock Out noted, "is not your color."

* * *

 

::And where do you think you're going, apprentice?::

Sunstreaker took the curve fast enough to pop up on two wheels. ::Airfield.::

Away from Sideswipe. Away from the _Prime_.

Primus help her, she'd hit him with paint _again_!

::And your patients?::

::Are under the care of two of the most well regarded medics on Cybertron. None of them need an apprentice applying color theory to their wounds.::

Sideswipe's words. The ones he'd said that last night in Kaon, and the ones he had repeated today. She hated them, hated _him_ -

But Knock Out didn't argue.

Because Sideswipe was right.

::They have a ground bridge.::

And go back? Face Sideswipe? Face the Prime? No thank you!

::Pass.::

::We might be taking it back.::

::Then I'll drive back to base and you'll see me in a few days.:: Sunstreaker blew past a pick-up, honking obscenities. She shut off the comm link, speeding past the signage that insisted that the natives had had to stop there.

She also sped past a blue and white SUV coming the other way. One of the Prime's people, she remembered.

Who wasn't even gone from Sunstreaker's rear view mirror before spinning around, lights flashing and siren blaring.

"Oh come _on_!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strongarm is in pursuit, and Knock Out has a little chat with Sideswipe.

" _Strongarm to all points, I am in pursuit-_ "

Bumblebee ignored the way Knock Out chuckled as Strongarm rattled off a long list of traffic violations. "Did Ultra Magnus clone his processor without telling anyone?" There was something sharp and nasty in his grin. "Good luck getting those charges to stick. Most of those are _city_ ordinances for Kaon."

"- _to arrest_ -"

"Dial is back, cadet. Sunstreaker's not some 'con you need to run down. Just steer her away from the main roads and keep an eye on her."

Strongarm didn't bother to disguise her disgust. " _This **lawbreaker** is_ -"

" _Strongarm._ You have your orders. Bumblebee out."

The way Strongarm ground out that " _Yes, Lieutenant,_ " made Bumblebee's processor ache.

Knock Out's continued smirking only made it worse. "See, this is why _I_ only have one of them."

He really did have a very punchable face.

* * *

 

Strongarm was really starting to see the resemblance.

Flashy paint job, a reckless disregard for the rules (and road safety in general), an insistence on not listening to orders -- oh yeah, this was definitely Sideswipe's twin.

"Pull over!"

"Frag off!" Sunstreaker sped up, but what Strongarm might have lacked in raw speed, she more than made up for in local knowledge.

For instance, she knew that the road she'd managed to herd Sunstreaker on to would go from paved to gravel to rocky dirt track before much longer. The speed demon would _have_ to slow down or risk ripping out her undercarriage on the rocks.

Strongarm slowed; the curve ahead was especially sharp, and the grade of the mountain was steep enough that she didn't want to risk going through the railing.

Sunstreaker sped up.

"Hey, wait!"

Sunstreaker transformed as she hit the curve, the momentum letting her roll and flip up onto the railing. She gripped it with one hand, lithe frame stretched out and slim legs pointing straight in the air as she lingered there a moment.

She was showing off!

The miscreant had the nerve to _wink_ at Sideswipe before she dropped over the side.

There was something immensely satisfying about the way Sunstreaker yelped on the way down, each bump into the steep grade producing a new noise, ending with a disgustingly squelchy splash at the bottom. Take that, paint job!

Strongarm transformed and leaned over the rail guard, a scathing remark on the tip of her glossa. It died there, killed by the image of the mud splattered speedster just _sitting_ there, knees drawn up and shoulders hunched. "Well, she _deserves_ to be miserable after that chase," Strongarm muttered to herself, vaulting the rail. Her descent was more of a controlled slide than Sunstreaker's, allowing her to reach bottom without face planting in the muddy ditch. "Be advised that you are in violation of-"

Was she sniffling?

"- city-state statute KC Transportation Code section 21-901.1: Reckless Driving-"

Sunstreaker tried to wipe mud from her face, but succeeded only in smearing it around. She opened up her subspace and produced a polishing cloth that was quickly rendered rendered filthy by her attempts to clean.

"Are you even listening?"

Sunstreaker glared up at her, face twisted in an angry pout. With the mud gone, Strongarm could see the glitter sprinkled in a band across her face. "Oh, you want me to _say_ something? How about 'we're not on Cybertron, so the law you're quoting doesn't actually apply'?" She stood, trying to shake the mud from her servos. "Or maybe 'that code doesn't even apply outside Kaon city limits'." She gave the polishing cloth a disdainful shake.

Strongarm bristled, taking a step towards Sunstreaker, stasis cuffs already in her servo.

"The regulation you're looking for is Pan-Cybertronian Statute 8-7481.8. And you couldn't make _that_ hold up in a court of law." She flicked the polishing cloth, spattering mud on the incline. "What with you being only a cadet in the Kaonese police force, and this _not_ being Cybertron."

"How do you even _know_ that?" Strongarm demanded.

Sunstreaker rolled her optics. "Weirdly enough, when a famous war hero kidnaps a couple people and runs off, people _notice_. You were practically a celebrity for a few days." She resumed trying to shake off the clinging mud, climbing out of the ditch and onto slightly dryer ground. "Now that we've established your lack of authority, how about you run along and I go back to what I was doing?"

Strongarm grabbed Sunstreaker by the wrist, hauling herself up onto the bank. "And let you go back to terrorizing the natives? I _don't_ think so." She leaned in close, locking optics with the speedster, trying to ignore the way she could feel the pulse of Sunsteaker's energon lines quicken. "I'm taking you back to the scrapyard."

That close, Strongarm could see that Sunstreaker painted her upper lip black, in contrast to the glittery gold of the bottom.

Those lips were drawn into a thin, horrified line.

"I _can't_ go back there!" The cool demeanor Sunstreaker had been projecting fell apart like a cheap mask. "The Prime will _kill_ me!"

Strongarm yanked Sunstreaker closer. " _What did you do?_ "

"ihithiminthefacewithapaintcan."

" _Again_?"

Strongarm had never seen anyone look so ashamed in the whole of her functioning.

She couldn't help it.

She laughed.

"It was an accident!"

Strongarm laughed harder.

* * *

 

::Sideswipe, report to medical. Time for a check up.::

Sideswipe tried to ping Rachet back and tell him where to shove his checkup, but the medic had already closed his comm. Past experience had taught him that he didn't want Ratchet -- or worse, _Undertone_ \-- chasing him down, so he emerged from the quiet corner of the scrapyard he'd hidden himself in and limped his way over.

He turned right around when he saw that it wasn't Ratchet waiting for him, but Knock Out.

"Don't make me chase you down, kid."

Something about Knock Out's tone sent a shiver of fear down Sideswipe's spinal strut. Before he'd been an Autobot, he'd been the CMO for _Megatron_. That kind of history didn't stop existing just because a guy slapped on an Autobot badge and started playing nursemaid to the rich and famous.

Reluctantly, Sideswipe turned, acutely aware that the only other people there were the minicons too injured to be allowed out of medical stasis. "Where's-"

"Ratchet is busy scrubbing the Prime down, and Undertone and Fixit are running the bots well enough to move through physical therapy. I recall hearing something about a 'nature hike'. The good doctor asked me to lend a hand." Knock Out drummed his talons on the table. "Up you get. Unless, of course, you want to interrupt Ratchet and Optimus."

Sideswipe didn't even try to hide his scowl. "I'm not afraid of you," he snapped, climbing onto the table.

Knock Out hummed, stretching the injured leg out on the table and clamping it into place. No amount of wiggling would get it to move, and when he saw Knock Out's smirk, that was _all_ Sideswipe wanted to do. "Hey!"

Knock Out stepped just out of Sideswipe's reach. "And now that I've got you where I want you, we're going to have a little _chat_." He cocked his helm slightly. "No, scratch that. _I'm_ going to talk, and _you_ are going to _listen_."

"Yeah, I _don't_ think so!"

Sideswipe was taken entirely by surprise by two fast, sharp blows, one that offlined his vocalizer and a ringing blow to his helm that scrambled his comm.

"Try to grab me and I'll strap you to the table," Knock Out warned.

Sideswipe glowered, debating making a grab for Knock Out's neck anyway.

Knock Out ignored him, carefully removing the brace. "Your sister does good work," he noted. "Put this together in less than an hour." He ran his scanner, humming again. "If you tell anyone I told you this, I will deny it to the end of my functioning." Knock Out locked optics with Sideswipe. "She misses you, and you need to talk to her." He stepped back, avoiding Sideswipe's grasping servos. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a war coming, and you're _both_ on the front lines."

_And who's fault is **that**?_ Sideswipe thought viciously.

If it had been anyone else, Sideswipe would have thought the loon on Knock Out's face was regretful. "The last thing you want is to leave things unsaid." He prodded Sideswipe's knee gently. "You've been on this too much. Find something to do that doesn't have you on your pedes." He reattached the brace with cool efficiency, then carefully pressed his digits to Sideswipe's vocalizer until it reset.

Sideswipe coughed, resetting his vocalizer until it stopped throwing out static. "How 'bout you mind your own business?" he snapped, flinging himself off the table the moment Knock Out unclamped his leg.

He could feel Knock Out's pitying look boring into his back as he limped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to TheMagneticWitch. As a wise woman once said: "Harold, they're lesbians." That's why.


End file.
